


Rudimentary My Dear Kurt

by dreamcatcher (darcangell23)



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Character Death, Kidnapping, M/M, Mystery, Rated For Violence, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcangell23/pseuds/dreamcatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel needed to get away from a miserable life so he ran to London. A friendly cab driver drops him at the Anderson Bed & Breakfast and within hours, Kurt is in the thick of a kidnapping case that manages to bring Ohio back to haunt him. He just wanted to get away from the drama and now he's in the center of it more than ever before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So this is something that started with just a sentence and some of my best ideas start that way I think. It goes to show that I've already completed three chapters of this and I only started it last night. They are slightly longer than my normal length but that's good right? And the format for this story is certainly different than I usually tend to right. The title is evident of Sherlock Holmes because it takes place in London and I feel it's kind of Sherlockesque. I don't know. I'll let you be the judge, yeah?
> 
> Without further ado I present the first chapter of Rudimentary My Dear Kurt. Rating is for violence though there may be sexy times later. Comments make me smile. Enjoy!

It's not easy. It's never easy. It never has been easy. It never will be easy.  
  
My eyes rose from the book in my lap to fix on the window pane of the aircraft, carrying me away, far away from Ohio, leaving the broken fragments of my childhood behind. Leaving the only man I thought I could trust behind. But if I'm honest with myself, he left me behind years ago.  
  
My mom died when I was eight years old. Cancer they said. Stage four they said. Why didn't they find it sooner? Because mom was too stubborn to go to the doctor when something was wrong, dad said. Maybe she's where I got my stubbornness from.  
  
Dad was never the same after that. He loved me but he was too depressed to open his eyes and see that I was still a little boy. I needed him. He drank himself into a stupor day in and day out.  
  
The tire shop eventually had to be foreclosed because dad was too drunk to go into work everyday and manage business. We were struggling to make ends meet. I got a paper route because I was too young to work a regular job. I stuck to it, getting up extremely early on school days just so I could keep it during the school year. It wasn't much but it at least kept food on the table. Aunt Mildred helped by paying the other bills. That was until I was of legal working age.  
  
I threw myself into three jobs, booked to work all afternoon and evenings and weekends just to keep the bank from foreclosing on our home. And what did dad do? Sat on his ass watching football and Deadliest Catch and passing out in his chair. That was our life.  
  
I had no time for extracurriculars or friends, nothing to build up my college applications with, nothing that would earn me a scholarship which I desperately needed to pay for college. So I didn't apply to any. I knew I wasn't going to get in.  
  
But by senior year of high school I was fed up. Dad had already been to the hospital twice for a close call overdose on alcohol since my sophomore year and neither incident had made him any the wiser. He still sat on his ass drinking from the bottle, watching his shows and passing out. Some life.  
  
So I did the only thing I could do. Whatever scraps of every paycheck that I wasn't using to cover the bills or food, I put away for safe keeping. By the time I graduated high school, I had enough money for a one way ticket out of Ohio. So, here I was.  
  
There was a light rain beginning to patter against the window, but that was to be expected as we neared our destination. It was a long flight, several hours I didn't dare count. I'd closed my book because I had finished the entire thing and we still weren't where we were meant to be. Granted, I may have started the reading in the airport but that was beside the point.  
  
A low sigh escaped my lips and I looked at the back of the seat in front of me. Despite things, I still couldn't help but to wonder about dad. Was he okay? Pfft, what kind of question was that? He probably hadn't even noticed I was gone. He never noticed when I left for school or when I came home. It was like he forgot I existed after mom died.  
  
That was another thing. Before coming to the airport, I'd driven to the cemetery. I wanted to say good-bye to mom. I wanted her to know that I was leaving because I had to. I couldn't do this thing with dad anymore. What should have been a wake up call, never had been and I had long since resigned myself to the fact that dad was a lost cause.  
  
There was a ding and I looked up to see the seatbelt sign had lit up. The pilot came over the loudspeaker, telling us we were making our final descent to London.  
  
London. I had hardly been able to believe my luck when I had realized I'd saved enough to get me to England. I already had a passport, due to a weekend trip to Canada the previous summer. I'd done that on a whim. Driven there too. So really, all I had to do was buy the ticket, pack my bags, and go. And that's exactly what I did.  
  
I didn't have a clue what I was going to do when I got there, but at least I didn't have to think about dad anymore. Though that seemed to be the only thought on my mind. Maybe I shouldn't have left him alone like that. But it was too late now. It probably wouldn't have made a difference if I stayed.  
  
I watched the lights of the city at night begin to appear in the window as the plane descended lower and lower to the ground. I could feel the swooping drop as it obviously dipped lower every few seconds. This was it, the final descent and the beginning of my new life.  
  
Grabbing my carry on, I shoved the book into it and started to pack up the few other things I had taken out for the flight. A flight attendant came by and took my trash. I'd had a meal during the flight. I suppose it was a good thing no one else was seated in my aisle. It meant she didn't have to lean over people to take it.  
  
If I had friends, they would probably call me crazy. Quitting all my jobs, leaving behind my alcoholic father, and running off into the unknown. They would try to stop me. But I had no friends. And I hadn't heard from Aunt Mildred in years. So, no one tried to stop me. I went.  
  
I was jolted a bit in my seat as the wheels touched the ground below, bouncing the plane a bit. I clutched my carry on tighter, eyes glancing around the lit London airport. Rain was falling in soft pitter-patters all around us. Typical. England had a rainy summer. I would have been more surprised if there was no rain at all.  
  
The plane taxied a few moments later and I was swept from it with the small crowd of other passengers. A few people took a moment to stretch their limbs. It was a really long flight after all. I shouldered my carry on and deboarded, walking up the ramp, somewhat shuffled along by passengers in a hurry.  
  
Sighing, I shook my head and followed the signs to the baggage claim, where I waited patiently for my suitcase to appear. When it did, I grabbed it off the carousel and headed for the doors, intending to hail a car. What did they call them here? Probably just taxis.  
  
There was one waiting at the stand when I exited the terminal and the driver offered to help me with my bags. Londoners were so much more polite than Americans. I was already convinced I'd made the right choice.  
  
"Where to mate?" the driver asked and I realized I hadn't thought this through yet. Where was I going to go? I bit my lip for a moment and looked at the man who was watching me patiently through the rearview mirror. He seemed to catch on fore he said, "Never you worry than lad. I know just the place." I gave him a grateful smile.  
  
The taxi pulled away from the curb and I tried not to gawk at the fact that the driver was on the right side instead of the left. I knew cars and roads in England were reverse but knowing about it and actually seeing it were two different things.  
  
The drive passed in comfortable silence and before I knew it, we were pulling up in front of a cozy looking inn. It was a large two story home which was likely once the home of someone. A sign outside declared it to be the Anderson Bed & Breakfast.  
  
"Here you go mate," the driver said, turning around to face me. "They'll take anyone, even if you haven't got any money." Well, that was a relief to know. Speaking of money, I pulled out my wallet to pay the tab before I realized I'd forgotten to visit the currency exchange window at the airport before leaving. I bit my lip again.  
  
"So dreadfully sorry sir, but I only have American money," I told him with a grimace. Now, any American taxi driver would have gone off on me. Especially those in New York. But this guy just smiled at me.  
  
"That's all right mate," he said, glancing at the meter that displayed the charge. He was silent for a moment, apparently calculating something in his head. "Just give me ten dollars and I'll exchange it later," he finally said. Relieved, I handed him a ten dollar bill before we both climbed out of the car and he retrieved my luggage from the trunk. "You take care of yourself now mate," he said, tipping his hat and handing me a card. With one last nod of his head, he climbed back into the car and drove off.  
  
I turned on the sidewalk to face the inn. Well, it was now or never. I had to start somewhere and living in the London streets in this rain was not an ideal place.  
  
Speaking of rain, I tugged my collar up more around my neck and hurried to the door. I had to release the handle on my suitcase in order to pull it open but I managed.  
  
There was a ding sound as I entered the rather charming lobby, what would have been a full foyer entryway when this house was merely a home.  
  
A boy who couldn't be much younger than myself peeked up over the book he was reading at the desk, apparently bored out of his mind. It must have been a slow shift for him.  
  
But the moment his eyes found me, his face lit up and a wide smile broke across his face. It was as though my very presence had completely cheered him up. I took the moment to take in his appearance.  
  
His skin was a nice olive color, despite living in London. His hair was dark and gelled down neatly to his head, aside from a few wayward curls that had popped out of the gel over time. He had triangular eyebrows, a winning smile, and his eyes were the most gorgeous shade of honey-hazel I had ever seen in my life. I swallowed the lump that had been forming in my throat.  
  
"Cheerio!" he said, drawing me from my thoughts and I blushed. "Welcome to the Anderson Bed & Breakfast. I'm Blaine. How may I help you this evening?" He rested his chin on his hand and leaned forward in his seat, obviously eager to please, probably begging to help someone, even if they were just checking in.  
  
I moved to the desk and flushed lightly as I looked down at my wallet and the remaining American bills inside it. "Um," I started hesitantly. Okay, why was I having such issues trying to speak to this boy? He was only the most gorgeous boy I had ever seen in my life. No big deal, right? Wrong.  
  
"Aw, are you shy?" he asked in a rather flirtatious manner and I flushed a dark red. Where did this incredibly charming boy come from even?  
  
Swallowing again, I drew a breath and held my head high. "I'd like a room please," I finally managed to say politely. He smiled again at me.  
  
"Now was that so hard?" he teased and I couldn't help the small chuckle that parted my lips.  
  
"Well, it kind of is when you're a rather nice distraction." Oh my God. I clapped a hand to my mouth. Where had that come from? But the boy — Blaine — just smiled warmly at me, a light blush coloring his olive cheeks. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate of me," I said. He waved it off.  
  
"No worries. You're quite the distraction yourself," he replied with a wink and a grin. I felt my whole face heat up. Yes, he was definitely flirting with me. "Now, you said you would like a room, right?" he asked, turning his attention to the computer on the desk.  
  
"Yes please." Blaine typed a few things, furrowed his brow, and then frowned, shaking his head. "Something wrong?" I asked.  
  
Blaine sighed and turned to look at me. "My brother hasn't been updating things again but it appears we're all booked up I'm afraid," he said in an apologetic voice. My face fell. The taxi was long gone, it was raining outside, and I had nowhere else to go. Especially not somewhere that wouldn't turn me away for only having American money on me.  
  
"Oh, um, that's all right," I said, not wanting to alert him to the fact that I was inwardly panicking. "Thank you anyway, I'll just…" Just what? I wondered. My hand tightened on the handle of my suitcase and I started to turn to leave when I heard his voice call out to me.  
  
"You can share my room if you'd like," he all but blurted out. I turned to stare at him, eyes wide in surprise. He flushed so deep I could see it traveling right on down his neck.  
  
"You live in the hotel you work at?" I asked. He chuckled.  
  
"Of course I do. Anderson family business, Anderson family home after all." He smiled brightly and my eyes went a little wide. He was part of the family that owned the hotel. "Well, except my mum and dad. They live at Anderson Manor now that me and my brother Cooper have taken over operation."  
  
I didn't know how to respond to this. Anderson Manor? This bed & breakfast was a mansion in itself and they had a separate home just for living in? It became clear that this Anderson family was quite well off.  
  
I swallowed yet again for what felt like the millionth time that night. "You sure you don't mind?" I asked, wanting to know if he was serious about having me stay in his room.  
  
"Of course I don't. My hotel, what I say goes," he said. "We'll set you up in my room and than when someone checks out, you can have the vacancy." He offered me another smile and I just felt my insides melt into a puddle of goo. Seriously, this boy was going to be the death of me.  
  
"Oh, okay," I agreed. I wasn't sure what made me agree more. The thought of sharing a room with this gorgeous boy, or just the fact that it meant I wouldn't have to spend the night on the street. "I'm afraid I didn't exchange my American money for British notes at the airport."  
  
He waved me off. "Don't worry about it, no charge. It's not like my family actually needs the profit. It's because of that, we're still very popular. People sometimes stay here when they're between homes," he said and wow, there would never be anyone this generous in Ohio. "And you can stay as long as you like," he went on. Well, if I wasn't sold before, I was now.  
  
"Thank you for being so kind," I told him. He giggled and rested his chin on his hand again.  
  
"My pleasure. Now let's get you settled in, shall we?" He moved out from behind the desk and I could tell he was shorter than me by a couple of inches but oh my God the rest of him was just as gorgeous as his face if not more so. I closed my eyes and willed my growing erection to recede.  
  
Blaine took a hold of my suitcase for me and cocked his head toward the stairs. I followed him as he started to climb them.  
  
"So, what's your name?" he asked, making small talk as the two of us climbed the stairs to the second floor.  
  
"Oh, how rude of me!" I cried, realizing I had not once introduced myself to him. He just laughed and set my suitcase down on the hallway floor as we reached the landing. "I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you Kurt," Blaine replied and God did my name sound good rolling off his tongue in that accent. It was like sex on a stick to listen to and why the hell am I even making that reference? "Where are you from Kurt?" he asked, emphasizing the use of my name and damn it was sort of flattering when I thought about it.  
  
I sighed and ran a hand through my rain damp hair. "Ohio," I admitted. He frowned slightly, obviously getting the hint that I did not feel like discussing it further, at least not yet. He didn't ask for details and for that I was grateful.  
  
There were no more questions as Blaine lead me down the hall. The silence was loud but not uncomfortable. It was broken a moment later though by the sound of a door being opened.  
  
"Hello killer," said a voice and though we were not touching in anyway I could feel Blaine tense up beside me. "Who's the new girl?" That got me riled up. This guy thought I was a girl? I turned a hard look in the direction of the voice.  
  
A tall lanky boy around our age was leaning casually in the doorway to one of the rooms, shirtless, hands in his pajama pockets. He was eyeing me with an intense look of utter disgust on his face. Well, I suppose not all Londoners had manners. Blaine clucked his tongue and held himself together, though I could practically hear his muscles screaming with how tight they were at the moment.  
  
"Kurt," Blaine said, putting a strong emphasis on my name, "Is not a girl Sebastian." Sebastian. Seemed fitting for a guy who was little more than a pubescent sleaze. Really, if I wanted to run into guys like him, I would have stayed in Ohio.  
  
Sebastian sneered at me and looked back at Blaine, his expression changing to one of seductive nature. "How about you leave the ugly Betty White behind and I show you a good time?" He reached out a hand to stroke down Blaine's chest but Blaine caught it and I could see the muscles in his arm tense as he squeezed Sebastian's wrist. To his credit the other boy was doing quite a good job at hiding the pain.  
  
"I wouldn't go near you in that manner with a ten foot pole Smythe," Blaine gritted out through clenched teeth and good God his temper was just another thing to add onto my growing list of things that made Blaine Anderson exceedingly hot. I kept that to my mental tab. "You're lucky my brother and I are allowing you to stay here. One more wrong move and you're gone."  
  
He let go of Sebastian's wrist and turned to continue on down the hall, gesturing for me to follow him. I decided that while the lanky boy was looking a bit stunned, I might throw in something for good measure.  
  
"See you around, horse teeth," I said, leaving Sebastian looking positively dumbfounded and causing a laugh to make its way out of Blaine's mouth. That was a beautiful sound. Perhaps the most beautiful I had ever heard.  
  
The sound of a door slamming pierced the air moments later. Obviously, Sebastian did not take criticism or rejection well. One of those no-one-ever-says-no-to-me types. Honestly, I hate those kind of people.  
  
We arrived at a set of double doors at the end of the hallway and I stared in amazement. Blaine blushed slightly before wrapping his hand around one of the handles and pushing it down to open the door. He stood back and gestured for me to enter first.  
  
"After you," he said. I gave him a small smile.  
  
"Thank you kind sir," I said. Blaine laughed lightly. I could definitely get used to this. There was no doubt about that.  
  
Turning my eyes on the room, I marveled at its décor, my mouth dropping open with a slight gasp. The floors were a polished wood and the furniture seemed to all be made of polished oak. The bed was a king sized four poster dressed in blue silks and a down comforter that looked softer than my Aunt Mildred's faux fur rug. But perhaps the most stunning point in the room was the large floor to ceiling window with French doors that lead to a small balcony terrace. The curtains were the same shade of blue as the bedspread.  
  
"What do you think?" Blaine asked from behind me. I could hear the soft click as he shut the door. He did sound slightly nervous but I had to wonder what he could possibly be nervous about.  
  
I turned to face him. "Blaine, it's absolutely beautiful!" I exclaimed, causing a megawatt grin to cross his face. For some reason, it reminded me of Rachel Berry, the star of McKinley's Glee Club. I tried to push thoughts of the obnoxious girl out of my head. She was no longer a part of my life, not now, not ever. I still couldn't get the sounds of her nagging at me to join the Glee Club out of my head. She apparently did not know the meaning of 'I don't have time for that'.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that," Blaine replied, moving further into the room and parking my suitcase beside his dresser. "That door," he said, pointing to a door on the far side of the room, "Leads to the en suite loo. And that," he went on, pointing to a second pair of double doors, "Is the closet." He grinned again at me and moved back toward the door. "I'm still on shift I'm afraid. But please, make yourself at home."  
  
"Thank you," I said. He nodded his head and opened the door, smiling at me again as he slipped out of the room and carefully shut the door behind him.  
  
I sat down on the bed, hardly able to believe my luck. Here I was in London, in the room of the most gorgeous boy I had ever seen in my life. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.  
  
I should have known the too good to be true start was a recipe for disaster.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is chapter two! I am in the middle of writing chapter four so that should be done by the time I put up chapter three tomorrow. This is where the action starts to happen. Mind you, there is a character death in this chapter. Comments make me smile. Enjoy!

I'm not exactly sure what it was that woke me that night. Whether it was the sound of broken glass, the harsh whispering voices, or the obvious gunshot that was fired from somewhere down the hall. All I know was that I awoke in a clear panic.  
  
My eyes glanced to the side of the bed I knew Blaine had claimed. I had protested about sleeping in the bed because it was his bed but he wouldn't hear anything of it and we both ended up sharing the bed.  
  
Blaine's side of the bed was vacant, the blankets rumpled as though he had been pulled from them unwillingly. My eyes went wide with fear and I reached over to flick on the lamp. The small table light fixture flooded the room with enough light that I could see the glass of the French doors lying in shards on the floor. Someone had broken in from outside.  
  
I slid from the bed and made to examine the room, pulling open first the closet doors and then the door to the bathroom. But there was no sign of anyone. I was alone.  
  
Alone that was until I heard the bedroom door begin to open and I froze, staring with wide eyes. A taller guy entered, brunette hair and a worried expression on his face. Though the light was dimmer by the door, I could see the dark red stain on his shirt, one hand clasped over the spot. Someone had shot him in the shoulder.  
  
"You must be Kurt," he said, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder. I wasn't sure how to respond so I merely nodded my headed. "I'm Cooper Anderson, Blaine's older brother," he went on to explain and I relaxed a little bit. He crossed to the shattered French doors and picked up a shard of glass, staring out at the night. "You won't get away with this Clarington," he ground out.  
  
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked. Cooper jumped as though he had forgotten I was even in the room. He turned to look at me, wincing as the action put pressure on his injured shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this Kurt," he said slowly and my eyes widened with the fear of what he might possibly be getting at. "But Blaine's been kidnapped." I had trouble trying to wrap my head around this whole predicament.  
  
Blaine had been kidnapped. Blaine had been kidnapped somehow without me even stirring. I could not fathom how this could be possible with the fact that I've always been a light sleeper. Maybe it had something to do with the jet lag. But then I also had to wonder why the kidnappers didn't bother to try and incapacitate me first. Weren't they worried I would wake up and try to stop them?  
  
"We knew this was coming," Cooper said, his eyes going dark as he stared down at the broken glass. "Knew it was coming and I still was unable to stop them!" His fingers flexed over the wound in his shoulder and he let out a cry of pain, dropping to his knees and narrowly avoiding the glass on the floor. "I'm so sorry it had to happen the night you arrived here."  
  
I began to wonder if the taxi driver knew the Anderson family was facing some kind of trouble. If he had dropped me off here on purpose but that was silly. No way would something like this be public scandal. And why would a man who seemed so cheerfully friendly want to throw me into the thicket of it?  
  
Moving quickly, I snatched the jeans I had been wearing when I arrived and fetched the driver's card out of the pocket. I stared down at the front of it for the moment. It looked like any normal business card but the glow of the lamp told me something had been scribbled on the back so I flipped it over.  
  
'Save Anderson'  
  
That was all it said. So the driver had known something. But had he honestly thought a random American boy from Ohio would be able to help and save the day? Perhaps the driver knew something I didn't.  
  
"Are you in some kind of trouble?" I asked quietly, looking toward Cooper. He drew a few long breaths between his teeth.  
  
"That's just it, I don't know. All we know is that the Claringtons have some kind of problem with us and we don't know why," he replied. I gave him a surprised look and he went on, climbing unsteadily back to his feet as he turned his eyes back on the night sky. "They're known for taking down wealthy families. Some sort of thirst for power. They make up excuses for having issues with anyone richer than they are, but never tell them. It's kind if their calling card to kidnap the youngest of the line if they don't cooperate."  
  
I stared at him for a long moment. "If you knew this was coming, why didn't you contact the police?" I asked.  
  
Cooper shook his head. "It wouldn't do any good. The chief of police is a Clarington. All he'd have to do is deny all claims and that would be that." Of freaking course. Because no one would betray their own family, even if what they were doing was wrong.  
  
So it appeared that this was an issue that would have to be solved without the police. I crossed the room to my suitcase and started pulling clothes out of it.  
  
"What are you doing?" Cooper asked. I looked back at him as I made my way to the bathroom, having showered before turning in for the night.  
  
"I'm getting dressed and then we are going to find your brother." My voice sounded more confident than I felt and Cooper stared at me with wide eyes, opening his mouth to protest likely but I went on. "Look, that taxi driver brought me here for a reason. I'm not changing my mind. We're going to save Blaine." As if to finalize my statement I entered the bathroom and slammed the door firmly shut behind me.  
  
Ten minutes later, Cooper and I were slowly making our way back down the hall toward the stairs. There was a body lying motionless on the floor, half in and half out of the room in which he had been staying. A puddle of dark red spread on the cream carpet beneath his head.  
  
It was Sebastian.  
  
Willing the squick in my stomach to decrease, I carefully walked around the body, giving it as wide a birth as I could. There was no way I was going to tread through that blood or even touch Sebastian's cold dead body. Sure, I had already decided I didn't like the guy but that didn't mean I wanted him dead. I swallowed thickly. I didn't want to know what he had done to get himself killed.  
  
It wasn't until we were slowly descending the stairs that Cooper spoke up about it. "That's peculiar," he said quietly and I looked at him for a moment, pausing in my step.  
  
"What was?" I asked, not at all sure what he was getting at. He looked at me for a moment and then back toward where Sebastian's body was lying on the floor, though we could no longer see it.  
  
"Sebastian is good friends with Hunter Clarington," Cooper explained. "I can't imagine why they would kill him." That was kind of odd. If Sebastian was in cahoots with the Clarington family, why would they find it necessary to shoot him dead? Unless he betrayed them in some way.  
  
I knew Sebastian was after Blaine's pants but could he actually have cared about him in some way? I didn't think the meerkat faced boy would be capable of caring about someone. It probably was unlikely that was the case. But if not, what was?  
  
I chose not to grace Cooper's explanation with a response and instead, focused my attention on helping him get down the stairs.  
  
When we reached the bottom it was to find a figure pacing the lobby. Smoke billowed from the cigarette they held in their hand. I could tell by their body type it was a woman. Long black hair flowed down her back. I couldn't see much else as she was turned away from us. But Cooper seemed to recognize her.  
  
"Santana," he said shortly. The woman turned around and my eyes took in the rather stunning features of a young Latina who could be no older than myself. She was wearing a skin tight red dress that came to mid-thigh and a rather expensive looking black cloak.  
  
"Cooper," she said in greeting, taking a drag on the cigarette in her hand and dropping it to the floor, smoldering the cherry with the heel of her bright red stiletto. Cooper grimaced. Obviously, this woman had no care for the décor and preservation of the home. She held his gaze for a moment before turning to take me in, giving me a once over. "And who's the China doll?" she asked.  
  
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, taken aback by the quip. I opened my mouth and closed it again several times over, not at all coming up with the right thing to say to her. I didn't know whether to be offended or flattered by her comment.  
  
"This is Kurt. He arrived here just this evening. He's American," Cooper explained. Santana looked me over again, her eyes making the obvious lure of running up and down my body and despite being fully dressed, I felt incredibly exposed.  
  
She fiddled for a moment in the pocket of her cloak, extracting another cigarette and bringing it to her lips. She produced a lighter and lit the tiny offensive cylinder of nicotine, taking a drag on it before looking back at me.  
  
"I'm going to call you Porcelain," she said and my eyes went wide again, not at all sure what to make of that. This woman was something else and she had barely said that much since we spotted her.  
  
"Coming from Santana, that means she likes you," Cooper told me and I glanced over to him. Well, she certainly had a strange way of going about things like that. Santana took another drag on the cigarette and stood in patient silence. "What are you doing here?" Cooper asked.  
  
"I heard the commotion," she stated. She shrugged her shoulders and Cooper turned his head to stare out a side window through the sitting room of the first floor. The building next door was smaller and more compact than the hotel but I figured Santana must have lived there.  
  
"They took Blaine," Cooper said defiantly, turning his head back to look at her and I had to wonder why he wasn't concerned with the fact that she had apparently been awake in the middle of the night.  
  
She nodded her head slightly. "I figured," she said, taking another drag on her cigarette. "They got you in the shoulder," she added, nodding her head to him.  
  
"I'll be fine," Cooper said though he winced at the pain that shot up through his shoulder then. Santana grimaced and narrowed her eyes a bit.  
  
"Right," she said. "I should call Quinn. You can't go out with that injury Anderson." Cooper gave her a long hard look and she narrowed her eyes even more.  
  
"Like hell I'm going to sit by and let them do God knows what to Blaine!" he ground out. Santana raised one delicate eyebrow and took another drag on the cigarette. I was at a loss for words and merely stood in silence, watching the scene unfold in front of me.  
  
"Calm down Jumpy McJumper Pants," she replied. I was beginning to get used to her apparent brashness. She eyed me for a moment before she went on. "I'm not trying to stop you from going after Blaine but you won't be much use with an injured shoulder. At least let Quinn set it so you won't jostle it too much."  
  
I realized then that though she had an odd way of showing it, Santana actually cared about the Anderson family. They must have known her quite some time. She was worried about Cooper trying to get on with the wound in his shoulder.  
  
Cooper didn't say anything. He slumped over to the chair behind the desk in defeat. Santana pulled a phone from the pocket of her cloak. Cigarette hanging out of her mouth, she tapped away furiously at the device. I could only assume she was shooting off a text message.  
  
She waited a moment and the phone buzzed. "She'll be here in five," she said, plucking the cigarette from her lips and pocketing the phone. She turned her eyes on me. "So, American huh?" she asked. I could see a sort of knowing glint in her eye.  
  
"Oh, um, yes," I replied, feeling my face grow hot a bit. She nodded her head and turned to look back at Cooper, eyes roaming momentarily up the stairs before settling back on him. He was seated in the desk chair with his hand still pressed to the wound in his shoulder.  
  
"Where's Smythe?" she asked and I raised my eyes in surprise. Cooper did too, as though he wasn't expecting her to care about Sebastian.  
  
"He's dead," Cooper replied and Santana widened her eyes, clearly surprised at this turn of events. "They shot him in the head," Cooper confirmed. A shudder involuntarily rolled up my spine and I tried to push the image of Sebastian's lifeless body out of my mind.  
  
"They found out than," she said after a long moment and Cooper gave her a confused look. It was apparent that he didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about.  
  
"Found out what?" he asked. She looked at him strangely for a moment and then glanced at me. I shrugged. I was a complete innocent in all this. After all, I hadn't even been in London a day yet. I didn't have the slightest clue what was going on.  
  
Throwing her eyes back to Cooper, she furrowed her brow. "Sebastian was playing double agent. He pretended to befriend Hunter to get inside information. He was trying to protect Blaine," she said. Well, that much was a surprise. "I know it doesn't seem like something he would do but he confessed it all to me when I caught him eavesdropping on a conversation between Hunter and his band of privileged birds."  
  
This was apparently news to Cooper. I could tell he was finding it hard to wrap his head around the idea that the sleazebag was actually trying to protect Blaine. I didn't blame him in the slightest but now that I thought about it, it made him staying here make more sense. It put him closer to Blaine where he could keep an eye on him. But perhaps it wasn't inconspicuous enough for the Claringtons.  
  
They could have taken it two ways, I realized. One was that Sebastian stationed himself there to keep an eye on the intended target and release information to Hunter and the other was that he was there to watch out for Blaine. The former probably would have been an order or a suggestion so Hunter would have known. Given the situation, it was likely that he was unaware of Sebastian's decision to keep close to Blaine. That ultimately could have given him up.  
  
Whatever the case actually was, he was paying for it now, lying dead on the hallway floor in a puddle of his own blood.  
  
"I don't think Hunter authorized Sebastian to be here," I said, giving my head a shake and drawing Santana's attention back to me. She narrowed her eyes in thought for a moment.  
  
"No, I don't think he did either. And that was Sebastian's mistake," she said.  
  
At that moment, the door opened, bringing with it a pretty blonde dressed in a pale yellow sundress and a black cloak that looked a lot like Santana's.  
  
"You required my services?" she questioned, looking at Santana who took the final drag on her cigarette before putting it out the same way she had the first one.  
  
Santana didn't say anything. She merely nodded her head in Cooper's direction and the blonde girl made her way over. It was then that I noticed the first aid kit she held in one hand. She spoke not a word as she set it on the desk and proceeded to set to work, patching Cooper up. She pulled his shirt off without hesitation and I turned my eyes away, blushing lightly.  
  
Santana didn't miss the action and I noticed her smirking out of the corner of my eye. "See something you like Porcelain?" she quipped. I hastily shook my head, biting my lip. She looked at me for a moment. "Mm, you prefer Blaine, don't you?" I flushed deeper and really, how the hell could this woman seemingly read people so well? She gave me a knowing look and turned her eyes away. "What's the verdict Q?"  
  
The blonde girl did not look up from where she was bandaging Cooper's shoulder. "He's going to need medical attention to remove the bullet, but I think he's good for now," she said, grabbing a towel and proceeding to wipe her hands with it. "It lodged itself pretty deep. That should help keep his shoulder immobile until we can get him proper medical attention," she went on.  
  
Santana nodded her head and pulled her phone out again. "We don't have much time," she said, glancing at it and pocketing the phone once more. "Have you heard from Brittany?"  
  
Quinn shook her head and I was beginning to wonder just how invested these people were in the situation. Cooper remained sitting in the chair and not saying anything.  
  
"Last I knew, she was tracking them," Quinn replied after a moment and Santana frowned.  
  
"You don't think they caught her, do you?" she asked. Quinn sighed and glanced down at the floor.  
  
"Hard to tell. Brittany's good at what she does, but she's not always that bright about it," she replied. Santana nodded knowingly. She glanced at me and Cooper before turning back to Quinn.  
  
"We better get to Abrams' lab immediately," she said. Quinn nodded her head in agreement.  
  
"I agree. I have the car out front." She nodded toward me. "Take him with you and I'll help Cooper out." Santana nodded her head and moved to grip me by the arm.  
  
"Come on Porcelain. Time to get a move on," she said. I didn't have the slightest clue where we were going or what was going on but I was quite sure this whole situation was a lot bigger than I thought it was. Clearly, though Cooper had apparently not been prepared for an actual attack, he and his friends had been prepared for if Blaine got kidnapped. They seemed to be following some sort of plan. At least it seemed like it with how calmly everything was being carried out.  
  
I allowed Santana to guide me out of the hotel and down to the curb where a sleek black car with tinted windows sat waiting. I could hear Quinn helping Cooper behind us.  
  
We reached the car and Santana pulled open the back door. "Get in," she said, giving me a slight shove forward. I did as she requested and climbed into the car. Moments later, Cooper was sliding in beside me. The door shut and I heard Santana climb in the front passenger seat. Quinn got into the driver's seat.  
  
The engine was started and we pulled away from the curb, speeding off into the night.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this didn't go up yesterday! I'm still working on chapter 4 but it should be finished soon. So I can hopefully put it up tomorrow before spending time singing to my music. Anyway, the plot thickens, hahaha. And there is a part of this chapter that's not from Kurt's POV but you'll understand when you read it. Comments make me smile! Enjoy!

Abrams turned out to be a geeky guy in a wheelchair. He had two assistants Mike Chang and Tina Cohen-Chang. He was introduced to me as Artie and his lab was apparently bursting with the latest in technology. He greeted Quinn, Santana, and Cooper like old friends.

"I'm sorry about Blaine," he said to Cooper. I didn't ask how he knew without asking why we were there. He turned to look at me as he lead us down a corridor. "And I'm sorry you have been dragged into this," he added.

I shrugged. "Much more entertaining than my life in Ohio," I told him. He merely gave his head a curt nod and turned to put a key card in a door, prompting it to slide open. Tina and Mike had already taken the lead and they were in this room which appeared to be a conference hall, waiting for us apparently.

I took a moment to look around as the four of us took seats and Artie wheeled around to the front of the table. There was a laptop sitting on the table. A large screen was positioned on the wall behind Artie's seat. The walls were sterile white. Much to be expected from a lab.

"Okay, so, I don't mean to alarm you but we've already received a message from Clarington," Artie said. He moved the mouse and clicked on something. A video popped up on the screen showing an unfamiliar face.

"I know Anderson's going to run to you Abrams," were the first words the boy on the screen said. "He can try all he wants but he won't get Blaine back," he went on. "Oh, and tell the Latina and Q we have a present for them."

He moved the camera so that it was angled to show behind him. There was another blonde girl hanging from chains on the wall.

"Brittany!" Santana cried, slamming her hands flat against the table's surface. I could see the devious glint in her eyes as she gritted her teeth. Clearly, she cared a lot about the blonde girl that was chained up wherever it was that they were.

The camera moved back to show the boy again and he was smirking. "I'll make you a deal Lopez. Stay out of our business and leave me to deal with Blaine and I'll let your little girlfriend go." He laughed manically and the video cut out.

Artie turned back to look at us. "He's saying if we back down and let him win, he'll let Brittany go," he stated and Santana shot him a glare.

"I'm aware of that McCripple Pants!" she spat. She was clearly upset and Artie regarded her calmly for a moment. I wasn't at all sure where I fit into all this. All I wanted was for Blaine to be back safe and sound

Artie had just opened his mouth to reply when a Skype call from an unknown number came in. He glanced around at us all before he clicked to accept the call. The same boy's face came up on the screen.

"Good evening Abrams," the boy said and I felt a shudder run up my spine.

"There's nothing good about it Clarington. I'll get straight to the point. Where's Blaine?" Artie asked. It was enough to let the boy know that we weren't backing down. Clarington laughed and shook his head manically.

"My my, so impatient Abrams," he said, allowing a smirk to slide onto his face. "All in good time. But this call is for the American boy. May I speak to him please?"

I startled as the rest of them looked at me in surprise. I didn't have the faintest clue how this Clarington even knew about me, unless Blaine had said something.

Artie moved the computer so that the screen was facing me and they all tensed as they looked at Clarington's face on the larger screen. Glancing up, I could see the smirk on his face. My nerves were beginning to hike up.

"What do you want with me?" I asked. Clarington laughed and shook his head.

"I have a friend of yours who wants to say hello American," he stated and I just gawked at him. I didn't have any friends so this obviously couldn't be good. I had no idea who he could have there that wanted to say hi to me.

I furrowed my brow, deciding it was best that I tried to play it cool. "I don't have friends in America," I said.

His face twisted into some sort of a sneer and I forced myself not to swallow down the lump that was beginning to form in my throat. He turned his head away, obviously looking over at someone and I was certain he was beckoning them closer.

"Really? Because that's not what he told me. He told me you were, romantically involved." My face paled even more so than it was naturally. Who the hell would tell this guy that? I shook my head frantically because I wasn't romantically involved with anyone. Unless…oh God it couldn't be!

Clarington moved over to let the guy into the frame and my heart stopped.

Karofsky.

I wasn't romantically involved with the delusional asshole! He tormented me day in and day out at McKinley and forced a kiss on me once when I tried to stand up to him. He was a closet homosexual and while I didn't believe in outing, it was kind of hard to avoid his advances and leering and it was a wonder nobody caught on with how obvious he was being after the kiss.

I wanted nothing to do with him. But I knew, I knew he was in love with me. But he was so scared to admit it, he went on torturing me every chance he got. I was terrified of him and it had been another relief when I had hopped that plane the day before. I was running far away from him to where he couldn't find me. Apparently, that didn't work.

"Hello Kurt darling," Karofsky said in a sickeningly sweet voice. I squirmed in my seat, feeling the sudden urge to vomit creep up my throat. I must have looked a little green because suddenly, Tina was there with a trashcan. I couldn't help it then. I keeled over the can and emptied the contents of my stomach.

When I was done, I sat back up and Tina handed me a bottle of water. I rinsed my mouth out with it and looked back at the screen. Karofsky was putting on a concerned look.

"Are you all right baby?" he asked. I squashed down the urge to vomit again and stared.

"I'm not your darling or your baby, so don't call me that!" I spat out, tone leaking with my disgust. He frowned and played up the sad kicked puppy look. It didn't work on him. And it certainly didn't do anything to sway me. "Don't play innocent with me David! We both know you'd rather shove me around and threaten to kill me than offer any kind of warm embrace because God forbid you be a homosexual!"

He stared at me for a long moment before the sad kicked puppy morphed into a sneer.

"You just had to push the envelope didn't you lady boy!" he spat. He looked toward Clarington who was still barely in the camera shot and nodded his head. I watched the sliver of Clarington disappear for a moment before a new face was being shoved in front of the camera.

"Blaine!" we all shouted. Karofsky grabbed a hold of Blaine by the back of his shirt collar and stared me down. He raised a silver knife to Blaine's neck and pressed it firmly against the olive skin. Not enough to cut him but enough to apply pressure that would slightly constrict Blaine's airway.

Karofsky licked his lips. "Listen up Hummel. You are going to go back to Ohio with me. You are going to do it calmly. We will then go to New York and get married. If you don't follow these orders, Blainey here will die, at my hand! You have twenty-four hours to concede."

He flung Blaine to the ground and started to drag him off and then Clarington reentered the camera.

"I know you're there Lopez." There was a cock of a gun and he reangled the camera so that the blonde girl could be seen. He raised the gun and fired. The bullet pierced the girl's leg and she cried out, a sound that was mimicked by Santana who was seated next to me. "Let this be a warning to you. Back off, or next time, it will be her head!" He laughed manically and the camera cut off, ending the call.

I dropped my head into my hands. Twenty-four hours. That was technically how long Blaine had left to live. I had twenty-four hours to give in to Karofsky's demands. I couldn't marry that man, I just couldn't. It would make me miserable for the rest of my life. But than, if I didn't do it, Blaine would die. Why did I let myself get dragged into this mess?

"We need a plan," Artie said, turning the laptop back toward him. I wasn't sure what he thought was going to come out of that cliché statement but for some reason it made fire flame up in my bones.

"Like hell we do!" I said, slamming my fist down on the table. Everyone else looked at me in alarm. "I'm sorry if I seem mental at the moment but I just arrived in London last night in case any of you forgot! I hadn't met a single one of you before the taxi driver dropped me off at the hotel. So forgive me if I think all this is completely messed up and you deliberately pulled in someone who was completely innocent!" I was breathing heavily already but I wasn't done yet. "In case you didn't realize, Blaine now has twenty-four hours left to live because of me! So we have no time to formulate a goddamn plan!"

I sat back in my seat, fuming, nostrils flaring, crossing my arms over my chest. I tore my eyes away from them and stared at the wall. I'd come to London to get away from the miserable thing that was my life. To start anew with no drama and no alcoholic father and maybe actually make some friends. Instead, I get unwillingly hijacked into some kidnapping case in which the victim was someone I was already hopelessly falling in love with.

Wait. What? My breath was still coming in heavy bursts of air. My heart was still pounding in my chest but none of it was due to being angry anymore. It was due to suddenly realizing that after knowing him for only a few hours, I was hopelessly falling in love with Blaine. It scared the shit out of me.

The others were all staring at me, shock eminent on each of their faces. I didn't care. I didn't care how shocked they were that I had exploded like that.

Tina cautiously placed a hand on my shoulder. "Than I think I know how we can do this," she said quietly. I turned my eyes to look up at her.

"How?" I asked, voice soft and slightly hoarse from all the yelling. She gave me a sympathetic look.

"You're not going to like it but it starts with you giving into the demands," she said biting her lip and I stared up at her for a long time, determined to call her out but then I realized what she was getting at.

It involved me playing like I'm going to give in. I would have to keep up a façade just long enough for us to get to Blaine. Karofsky wasn't very smart. If I asked him if I could say good-bye to Blaine first, he probably would relent and give in eventually. This was just a move to get our foot in the door. A course of action for a rescue.

We could probably get Brittany too. Santana was clearly distraught over her being captured. I didn't want to see anyone under such distress. I knew first hand what it felt like.

"What did you want me to do?" I asked and a small smile flickered across her face.

Ugh, the things people do for love. No wonder the world said that love was such a scary thing to feel. I wasn't sure if I was really ready for this.

* * *

Slap!

Blaine's head snapped to the side and he could already feel the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He slowly lifted his head to stare at the man who had slapped him.

His name was David Karofsky and it had taken Blaine all of two seconds to realize the boy was madly in love with Kurt. Though judging by Kurt's reaction on the Skype call, he wanted nothing to do with the boy.

"You can slap me all you want you big brute!" he snapped at the boy who clenched and unclenched his hands into fists. "But you can't force someone to marry you!"

Slap!

This time it was against his other cheek and Blaine managed to keep a straight face.

"Kurt's in love with me. He just hasn't realized it yet," Karofsky said slowly.

"You're delusional!" Blaine shouted.

Slap!

"That's enough!" Blaine lifted his head, the sting of the slaps still biting at his cheeks. Hunter Clarington stood at the top of the stairs. He held a gun in his hand.

Slowly, he began to make his way down the stairs, eyes watching Karofsky with a fixed gaze. The burly boy swallowed under Hunter's intense stare. Hunter continued his track until he had reached Karofsky. He raised the gun and placed the cold hard metal barrel into the boy's throat.

"You will not hit him again if you know what's good for you," he bit out in an emotionless voice. Karofsky swallowed again and nodded his head quickly. He began to slowly back away, eyes on the gun. Hunter snickered to himself.

Blaine stared at him hard. "What do you want?" he asked, tugging on the chains that bound his wrists to the wall.

Hunter snickered louder and thrust the barrel of the gun into Blaine's stomach, causing the boy to gasp slightly.

"Money," Hunter said simply. "Lots of money. And if they hope to see you alive again, your parents are going to give it to me, along with your hotel and family manor. All the Anderson wealth," he went on.

Blaine tensed. Not because of the gun in his stomach or because of Hunter's plans, but because he was damn sure his parents' material possessions were more important to them than he was.

Despite the fact that they had left him in charge of the hotel because they didn't trust it in Cooper's hands, Blaine's parents could really give less than two pence about him. They had been typical loving parents until Blaine was thirteen. The day he came out of the closet, his life turned upside and his parents merely started buying his love so they wouldn't have to be seen with him. He was a disgrace to the family name because he was gay.

"You might as well shoot me now," he said calmly and a smirk wrote itself across Hunter's face.

"Now why would I want to do a thing like that?" he plead, slowly pulling the gun from Blaine's gut and moving to hold it upright with the barrel pointing at the ceiling.

Blaine swallowed. "Because my parents could give a rat's ass about me," he told him. "They'd rather I died than give up their materialistic valuables."

Hunter regarded him for a moment before the smirk fell from his face and he dropped the gun down to his side.

"You're serious," he said. And though Blaine knew it was a statement, not a question, he nodded his head. "Than there will be no pending death for you. No fun threatening it if I know the other party won't fight for your life." Blaine just stared at him for several moments.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Blaine asked.

Hunter stared at him for a long time. "My family owes the Italian mafia," he finally said quietly. "We need all the money we can get or we'll be knocked out."

So that was why the Claringtons had been coming down on all Britain's wealthy families. They had gotten themselves into quick sand with the Italian mafia. Really, how could they be so stupid to step in it like that?

Furthermore, Hunter was just a boy. Why was he targeted too? He hadn't done anything wrong. Blaine was starting to feel sorry for the boy when a smirk crossed Hunter's face.

"Ha! You're weak Anderson! I can't believe you fell for that!" Hunter raised the gun and fired a shot into the wall just inches from Blaine's head. "Next time, I won't miss." He turned and started to sweep from the room, nodding for Karofsky to follow him.

Blaine watched them go, thinking to himself that Hunter was hiding something. The question of the hour was what? So maybe he wasn't actually in trouble with the Italian mafia or whatever. That still didn't explain why his family was so keen to target so many of London's wealthy families. Most particularly because they really didn't need the money.

The Claringons were already high society rich. So what reason did they have to be doing this? Was Hunter serious about not killing Blaine? The curly haired boy didn't know.

He lifted his head up and stared at the ceiling knowing that Brittany was wounded in the leg one floor above him. If he could somehow escape so that he could tend to her. He no longer cared what happened to him. All that mattered was other people.

And then there was Kurt. That Karofsky wanted to force him to marry him. Blaine couldn't help the ache in his heart when he thought of Kurt being thrust into that miserable life. He didn't care if he'd been given twenty-four hours to live pending on Kurt's decision. He would rather Kurt refuse than agree to a miserable lifestyle for his sake.

Blaine knew it was probably crazy but he was falling hard and fast for one Kurt Hummel and well, he would rather he be dead, than Kurt be unhappy.


End file.
